You Know What Really Grinds My Gears (named after the segment on Family Guy, of course) is a new feature that will run whenever the fuck we want it to…but usually on a slow news day. It will focus on those pet peeves that, well, really grind your gears. It likely won’t be sports-related. Fuck sports. This isn’t a sports blog anyway…Oh. Right. Um, yeah, we’ll see about making them sports-related. If you have any suggestions — or would even like to guest write one! — send your submissions to zachls5@gmail.com or Ballhype us or something Internet-y like that.

You know what really grinds my gears?

Holiday cards.

I mean, what the fuck? I don’t care if you’re sending me your Christmas, Hanukkah, Thanksgiving, or Labor Day card. I don’t want to stare at your family on a vacation, or by the fire place, or with fingers in each other’s asses.

Really, what a pompous thing to do: “Look how perfect my family is.” I could give two shits about your family. I don’t care that you have a fucking Yellow Lab and your baby is adorable. That kid’s gonna turn in to a coked-out, cum-gargling hooker anyway. So fuck you.

What if I took a picture of my balls and sent that out? Nothing says Happy Hanukkah like a fat nut sack. It’s better than taking a posed photo with my family and then sending it out so all of the other families know that ours isn’t quite as dysfunctional as theirs.

And while we’re on the topic of holidays, you know what else fucking grinds my gears? Nativity scenes.

That’s just fucking strange. And when you put it up in your front yard? Yikes. Try a basketball hoop or white picket fence. Nativity scenes scream, “Wackos live here.”

Seen the movie Arlington Road? You should. Good movie. Anyway, one seemingly happy family (with a cheerful couple of Tim Robbins and Joan Cusack as the parents) are actually terrorists and fucking creepy as hell. They’re the type of family that would put a Nativity scene up come Christmas time.

“Jingle Bells” fucking does some grinding too, but you already know that.

So if you’re thinking about sending out your Holiday Card, well, don’t. You’re family isn’t really that happy, not really that attractive, and certainly not that functional. Instead, send me a picture of your wife. Naked.